The Valentine
by JenniGellerBing
Summary: Monica can't be bothered with Valentines Day... can she?
1. Fairytale

A/N: Aight, before you go all crazy on me, just listen. I know that in actuality we are like, _no_ where near Valentine's Day. But this idea has been floating around in my head and I just had to write it. By the way, does anyone think I can pull off "aight"? What about "wifey"? "Yall?" Be honest with me. Becca can't say any of those words. I'm honest with her. I love you Becca Boo! 

Ahhh before I forget - there is a senior at my school who looks EXACTLY like Clay Aiken before the storm, the storm being American Idol. It's, like, CREEPY. The dark hair, the awkward skinniness, the dorky glasses - it's all there, just a few years younger. Scary, no?

Oh! The fic! That's right - It is February 14th, 1998. Please bear with me; for this fic, the events that happened towards the end of the fourth season happened much earlier. Just kinda figure it out, I don't care if dates and seasons are wrong.

Disclaimer: I own nothing here - not the _Friends_, not the Beatles "8 Days a Week." However, I do own a Pez dispenser - now all I need is some Pez. (Remember the Pez dispenser? Remember when he Pez dispenser _died?_ And here I am, trying to bring it back...)

The Valentine

"And its an unusually bright and sunny February morning here in New York, perfect for all those lovebirds to take a stroll in the park, maybe hide out behind the bushes, if ya know what I mean. Now for another dedication - this next song is for Rebecca, from Brett. Happy Valentine's Day from KRTH 101!"

Monica groaned as the opening notes of the Beatles "8 Days a Week" blared in her ear. She reached out and slammed her hand down on her alarm clock, silencing Paul McCartney as he sang.

_Eight days a week, what a stupid song, you can't love someone eight days a week_, Monica thought sourlyas she got out of bed. She stubbed her toe on the door as she left her room, and arrived in the kitchen to discover that they had run out of coffee. 

Today _sucked_ - Valentines Day _sucked._ She was alone, and all her friends were happy - Ross with Emily, Rachel with Joshua, Phoebe with the triplets growing inside of her and Joey with half the Tri-state area. Monica wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball and ignore the rest of the world until this hateful day was over. 

"Good morning!" Rachel said cheerily, sauntering out of her bedroom.

"Says who?" Monica grumbled. "We're out of coffee."

"Yeah, Joshua and I drank the last of it last night, sorry. Anyway, we're meeting at Central Perk in 20 minutes," Rachel said, opening the fridge.

"We are? No one told me that!" Monica crossed her arms. "No one ever tells me anything."

"Calm down, Mon!" Rachel said, pouring herself a glass of juice. "Be happy! It's Valentines Day!"

"I _hate_ Valentine's Day," Monica snapped. "It's a stupid, over-commercialized holiday invented by Hallmark and Company, used only to sell cheesy cards with idiotic poems and make single people feel like absolute _shit_."

"You don't have a date, do you," Rachel said, a small smile playing across her lips.

"_No_," Monica said crossly. "But I don't need one!" With that, she stomped into her bedroom like an angry teenager.

"Hey, Mon, what's this?" Rachel asked fifteen minutes later as they left their apartment. Monica stared at the white envelope with "Monica" written neatly on it in handwriting she didn't recognize. "I found it on the floor. Someone must have slipped it under the door." 

Monica took the envelope and stared at it a while longer. "Well, aren't you gonna open it?" Rachel said.

"I guess so." Shrugging, Monica deftly slit open the envelope, pulling a card from within. The card was simple yet elegant; a man and a woman walking into a sunset, their hands intertwined. Her hands shaking slightly, she opened it, her eyes falling upon a hand-written message inside.

"Monica," Rachel read aloud. "You have no idea how much I've been thinking about you. Tonight is the night when everything will fall into place. Tonight is the night I will hold you in my arms and tell you that I love you. Happy Valentines Day." There was no signature.

Rachel squealed excitedly. "You have a secret admirer!"

"Puh-lease," Monica said. "It's probably just someone playing a mean joke meant to torture me because I'm single." She led Rachel out the door and down the hall.

"Can't you for one second forget your anti-Valentines-Day _thing_ and believe that someone might care about you?" Rachel said in exasperation. "Ooh, I wonder who it is? Anybody from work have their eye on you lately? How about an old boyfriend wanting to rekindle a flame? Oh, no, you know what? It's Gunther, I bet it's Gunther, I caught him staring at us the other day when we were having coffee, he must be pining over you!"

Rachel was still discussing options, and Monica was still re-reading the card when they entered the coffeeshop. Ross, Chandler, Joey, and Phoebe were already there. 

"Hey, what's that?" Phoebe asked, pointing to the card in Monica's hand.

"Nothing," Monica said, quickly shoving the card into her jacket pocket.

"It's a valentine from a secret admirer!" Rachel said, grinning.

"_Mon's_ got a secret admirer?" Ross said incredulously.

"Thanks," Monica spat.

"A card without a name? Who _does_ that?" Chandler asked, chuckling. "It's like something a high school kid does when he doesn't have the balls to ask the cheerleader out - _so_ 'Saved By the Bell'."

"Very cheesy," Joey agreed. "You can't not tell a girl who you are - how's she gonna if she's having sex with the right guy?"

"I think it's sweet," Phoebe said.

"Really romantic," Rachel added. 

"Do you think it's romantic?" Chandler asked Monica, sounding hesitant. Monica cocked her head, pondering this. Did she think a card from an anonymous person promising something was romantic as hell? Yes. Did she think it was a little suspicious? Also yes. 

"I - I don't know. So what's everyone doing tonight?" Monica asked, eager to change the topic of conversation.

"I have a date with my boyfriend. Joshua," Rachel said proudly, putting emphasis on the second syllable.

"I'm picking Emily up at the airport in a few hours and we're going to Atlantic City," Ross countered immediately.

"I got a date with Christine at 7 and Melissa at 9, and I think I might pop over to Mandy's place later," Joey said, as if having a date with three women on Valentines Day was as normal as commenting on the weather.

"I'm meeting Frank and Alice for an early dinner and hopefully leaving before their _real_ festivities begin," Phoebe said, cringing at the idea of her little brother and his much older wife.

They all looked to Chandler and Monica. 

"I guess I - I don't really - I don't know what I'm doing," Chandler mumbled, his cheeks reddening slightly, presumably because of the fact that he, once again, did not have a date for the most romantic night of the year.

"Hey, I could set you up with someone!" Joey said excitedly. "I know this girl - "

"Joey, last time I was set up with you, I woke up with Janice. _Janice_. The only thing worse than that would be a man-eating tiger," Chandler said. "Forget it."

"What about you, Mon?" Phoebe asked.

"I'll probably just sit around and feel sorry for myself," Monica sighed.

"Noo, don't do that!" Chandler said. "No way! Go out! Go to dinner! Catch a movie!"

"Eh," she said, shrugging. Her five friends glanced at her for a second before Rachel began a conversation about woman's underwear that interested all present, leaving Monica think about the Valentine from the nameless man that was burning a hole in her pocket.

"I love you, baby."

"I love you too. I'll never stop loving you. You're my everything." The couple sitting behind Monica giggled excessively, and Monica tried to block out the noise. Unfortunately, they were not the only ones in the theatre who seemed to have missed the concept that going to a movie was actually about _seeing_ a movie, and not messing around in the back. 

Monica sighed loudly. _Who's dumbass idea was it to see a movie, anyway?_ she thought bitterly. She couldn't have picked a worse film to see, either, she realized. "Shamelessly In Love" - who the hell thought up _that_ title?

As the foot behind her kicked her in the head, she realized she'd reached the end of her rope. "Sorry, lady," the teenage boy, his face covered in bright pink lipstick, whispered to her as she stood up and glared at him. 

"Whatever," Monica muttered, grabbing her purse and stomping down her row. As she reached the aisle, she encountered another problem - a couple who had gone so far as to sprawl out between the rows of seats, providing a spectacle far more realistic than the one on the screen.

"Ahem." Monica cleared her throat pointedly. "A-_hem_. Excuse me! Kids, I'm trying to get through here!" The people looked up - and Monica was astounded to see the faces of her parents reflected in the light of the screen.

"Oh my God," she said. "Mom? Dad?"

"Oh, hello, sweetheart," Judy said, straightening her blouse casually. "What are you doing here?"

"Seeing a movie. It's what people _usually_ do in theatres - you should really look into it," Monica spat in disgust. 

"Oh, come on now..." Judy said. "So, where's your date?"

Monica bit the inside of her cheek. "I don't have one," she said through clenched teeth.

"You don't have a _date_? On _Valentine's_ Day?" Judy said. "Well, I suppose it's to be expected of you, really..."

"Judy, if Monica doesn't want to have a date, she doesn't need one!" Jack said encouragingly. "If Monica wants to grow old alone and come back and live with us, that's okay, and if she wants to become a lesbian, that's okay too!"

"Jack!" Judy cried.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Monica muttered to her parents, storming around them and out of the theatre. She leaned against the brick wall outside, trying to hold back tears. Finally, feeling calmer, she started walking. She kept her head down, her hands in her pockets, trying to look less lonely and miserable than she actually felt. She finally sat down on a bench in Washington Square Park. Couples, clutching hands or less appropriate parts of each other's bodies, stumbled by, lost in each other's eyes. A few stopped under trees and made out so insistently that Monica was sure they thought their tongues were going to be cut off the next day. 

It was until she heard guttural moans coming from the bushes behind her that Monica decided to leave - and then she heard a voice.

"Monica?"

Monica's eyes bulged. She turned around slowly.

"Pete." It wasn't a question. She knew the voice - the soft, comforting, familiar voice. She knew his face, and his eyes, and his lips - oh God, his lips.

Pete took a few steps toward her, opening his arms hesitantly for a hug. Monica lunged for him, burying her head in his shoulder. 

"So how've you been?" he asked when she finally pulled away. 

"Oh - okay, I guess," Monica said, shrugging. "You?"

"Fine, fine. Well, alone on Valentines Day, if that's any hint," Pete said with a self-deprecating half-smile.

"Yeah, me too," Monica said.

"Y'know, I've really wanted to call you lately," Pete said, avoiding her eyes.

"Yeah?" Monica asked breathlessly.

"Yeah. 'Cause I, you know, quit the Ultimate Fighting thing. I figure the championship isn't worth losing all possibilities of reproduction."

"That's - that's really good," Monica said, taking a half-step closer. She could almost feel the heat radiating from his body.

"Yeah. Yeah, I know. So, um, my question is, do you think you would ever consider getting back toge - "

Monica covered his lips with her own. Every emotion - longing, loneliness, regret - evaporated as Pete wrapped his arms around her.

"Yeah," Monica said quietly. "I think I would.

Monica rolled over, snuggling into Pete's arms, both of them panting. "Oh, God," Pete murmured. "God, I've missed you."

Monica grinned as he kissed her hand, her shoulder, her neck. She hadn't felt this happy in - well, she didn't know how long it had been. And suddenly, something clicked in her brain.

_Pete_ had sent her the valentine with the mysterious message! It made sense! He must have followed her all night, waiting for the right opportunity to talk to her, to tell her what she meant to him, to do _this_ - God, it was like a fairytale. Finally, _finally_, her Valentine's Day dream was coming true.

As Pete nuzzled her neck, Monica groaned, "Thank you for the valentine." Pete pulled away, frowning at her.

"What valentine?"

The last candle had burned down to a stub, it's tiny, feeble light flickering pathetically. The shapes of the immaculate kitchen, scattered rose petals, and untouched plates of food danced weirdly on the purple walls.

And with a final sigh of resignation, Chandler blew out the final candle and sat alone in the darkness.

A/N: Not sure if I'll continue... tell me what you think and if you think they're should be more. Thanks!

*Yen*

P.S. Heyyy I got the door open!

P.P.S. Has anyone (besides Becca) heard the song "Groovy Kind of Love"? Because apparently they play it at Monica and Chandler's wedding.... or something... err... someone explain please?


	2. Crimson

A/N: Thank you so much for all the reviews! And for the OVERWHELMING response to my Groovy Kind of Love question. Remind me to never EVER ask another question at the end of a chapter. EVER. :) Anyway, yall are great, and I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint... I'm going somewhere with this. I promise.

This chapter is dedicated to the one and only Becca. I love you to pieces, babe. Here is my little song for you - 

You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me happy

When skies are gray

You'll never know dear

How much I love you

Please don't take

My sunshine away

I made it up. Really. *coughs*Yensaliar*cough*. Dammit, Boris, SHUT UP! *slams closet door and throws away key*

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Is that new? Really? I mean, if I sat here and said "I own every character in this story", what would happen? Maybe I should try it. 

CHAPTER TWO

Monica quietly opened the door to her apartment the next morning, hoping against hope that Rachel was out, and she could slip in unnoticed. But no, that was too much to hope for, she realized. She groaned as she saw Rachel, Joey, Phoebe, and Ross all in her apartment. They grinned up at her.

"I'm so glad you're all here," she mumbled.

"_Somebody's_ wearing the same clothes she had on yesterday," Rachel singsonged. 

"Spill!" Phoebe said. "Who is it?"

"Um... Pete?" Monica said quickly before hurrying to the kitchen and hiding her burning face in the fridge.

"_Pete?_" Joey cried.

"_Millionaire_ Pete?" Rachel squealed, jumping up excitedly.

"Pete-who-you-broke-up-with-because-he-was-fighting-in-the-Ultimate-_Championship_ Pete?" Ross added.

"How many Pete's do we know?" Phoebe asked.

"Yes, that Pete," Monica said, a small, proud smile playing on her lips. "But just so you know, he's not doing the Ultimate Fighting thing anymore. So really he's just Pete-who-I-broke-up-with Pete." She took a swig of orange juice and looked around the room. "Hey, where's Chandler?"

"Still in bed?" Joey suggested. "I don't know, I haven't seen him since yesterday morning - "

"Omigod!" Rachel cried suddenly. "It was Pete who sent you the Valentine! I _knew_ it was an ex-boyfriend, and Pete - "

"Actually, he said it wasn't him," Monica said, shrugging.

"So you've got _another_ admirer?" Ross said in disbelief.

"Again - _thanks_," Monica said acidly. "Anyway, yeah, I guess. But it doesn't matter because I'm seeing Pete again tonight."

"So you really wanna be with Pete again?" Joey asked.

There was a long pause. "Uh-huh," Monica said finally.

"Wow, _that_ was reassuring," Phoebe said.

"Well, what do you want me to say? Pete's great. He's good to me. It's comfortable, it's familiar - "

"He's rich - "

"And he loves me," Monica finished. "And I'm not getting any other offers - at least not from guys who will say who they are, so what am I supposed to do?"

Her friends look at each other. Finally Rachel shrugged. "Whatever you want, Mon. Just don't make a mistake."

"So we're actually _up_ 4.46 percent, and - Mon? Are you listening?"

"Huh? Yeah, of course!" Monica blinked across the table at Pete.

"Are you okay?" he asked is concern. "You seem a little - disconnected."

_Yeah, I've been thinking about the love letter I got from a secret admirer yesterday, and I was just wondering what you, my boyfriend, thought of that, _she thought. Unsure if Pete would find that as humorous as she did, she thought quickly of an excuse.

"I'm so sorry. I'm just - tired. Yeah. Tired."

"Oh, well that's okay," Pete said, taking her hand. "How about I get the check and we can go back to my place and open a bottle of - "

"Or maybe I should just go home and, you know, get some rest," Monica said loudly. Pete pulled back, looking slightly hurt.

"Well, if that's what you want," he said slowly, looking past her to some point on the wall of the restaurant. "Waiter?"

As Monica got out of Pete's chauffeured limo 20 minutes later, she said, "I really am sorry, honey. I'm a little out of whack today - exhausted, I guess." She gave a loud yawn to emphasize her lie. "I promise, I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay," Pete said. "I just want what's best for you - for us - you know that, right? I'm just so happy that we found each other again." 

"So am I," she said immediately, hoping against hope that she had not just ruined everything. 

But then Pete smiled. He leaned in and kissed her softly, then urgently. God, it didn't matter how unsure she was about this relationship - Pete still did amazing things to her body. His lips massaged her with gentle confidence. As his hands ran down her back, she shivered.

"On second thought... maybe, if you wanted to come up for a little while," she said heavily, her heart pounding in her ears. 

"Mmm," he said in reply, kissing her again. He waved his car away, and somehow, blindly, they stumbled up the steps to her apartment. She unlocked the door, and they fell onto the couch, breathing heavily, his hands fumbling with the zipper on her dress...

"Oh my god."

Monica sat up, startled, her dress falling over her shoulder, the top of her breast exposed. Pete sat up too, his face blotchy, his tie loosened. Chandler, turning bright red and shielding his eyes, was standing in the doorway.

"I am so, so sorry - he-eeyy, I didn't know you were back together," Chandler said, his voice oddly strained. His eyes swept over Pete and Monica, tangled together on the couch, their rumpled hair, their halfway-undone clothes. "Is this - is this new?"

"Yeah, um, Chandler - not really a great time for a question and answer session," Monica said pointedly.

"Oh! Right. Sorry. I'll just let you two... whatever." Quickly he slammed the door shut. Monica sighed. 

"Chandler's a great guy," Pete said. "But he sure knows how to ruin a moment, doesn't he?"

"Aw, well, let's make a new one." And as Monica leaned in and kissed her boyfriend, still torn and doubtful and unable to figure out what she wanted but just trying to make it all go away, she had no idea that just yards away, someone else's heart had broken in two and fallen on the floor. 

She didn't hear Chandler's anguished cry as he slammed into his apartment; didn't know he was sick twice that night, just picturing her and Pete in each other's arms, sweaty and naked and panting; she didn't know that he lay awake in bed all night, tears running down her cheeks and onto his soaked pillow while she lay doing the same in another man's arms.

Monica stared, glassy-eyed, across the room at her brother. He was laughing and talking happily with Phoebe and Joey, a beer in one hand, Emily's fingers entwined with the other. Ross and Emily had just announced their engagement, and nothing less than a full-scale party was going on in Apartment 20.

Well, for everyone, that is, besides Monica - and Rachel. Rachel was sitting sulkily at the kitchen table, her third beer sitting in front of her, picking at her fingernails. Monica sat across from her, checking her watch every 25 seconds.

Pete was late for their date. Again. Was Pete ever on time? It seemed something was always wrong - an emergency at the office; a meeting that ran overtime; dinner with the senator - it was always something with Pete. 

If it hadn't been for Monica's punctuality pet peeve, she wouldn't have cared at all. Two weeks had passed since their Valentine's Day rendezvous. Monica _still_ didn't know if she wanted it - but she also didn't have the guts to end something when nothing was actually _wrong_. 

A burst of laughter came from the area of the apartment where the rest of her friends were, and she glared at them as if they were out of line for making noise. She tapped her foot impatiently against the wooden floor. 

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Rachel coughed.

_Tap tap tap tap tap._

Rachel raised her eyebrows at her pointedly. 

_TaptaptaptapTAPTAPTAPTAPTAP_.

"Seriously, what the hell?" Rachel said. 

"Pete's late," Monica growled.

"When was he supposed to be here?"

"8:30."

Rachel looked at the clock, which read 9:56. "Yikes."

The phone suddenly rang. Monica didn't move. It rang again. And again. And again. Finally, Chandler picked it up.

"Hello, you've reached 1-800-BJ, please leave a message after the beep," he said into the phone. Monica rolled her eyes as Chandler grinned at his joke.

Chandler's face clouded over, the smile seemingly wiped right off his face. He handed the phone to Monica. "It's Pete," he said tersely. 

"Hi, I'm here," Monica said.

"What the hell was that?" Pete barked.

"Chandler being stupid." She looked around, expecting to see Chandler sticking his tongue out at her, but instead saw him sitting on the couch, staring straight ahead with a kind of vehement scowl. "Where are you?" she asked.

"Still at work. Big press conference tomorrow, one of the VP's completely fucked up - I'm so sorry, babe, but I'm gonna have to get a rain check."

Monica was silent.

"Mon? You there?"

"I don't know, Pete. Am I?" And without knowing why she was so angry or why she cared so much, she angrily pressed the 'Off' button. She slammed the phone down on the kitchen table.

"Bastard," Rachel muttered, digging into a bowl of Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough. Monica snatched the scooper off the table and reached into the carton. 

Why did she care so much? Why did Pete blowing her off make her so angry? She didn't _love_ Pete. She just wanted to _be_ with him - because it was nice to have someone to call, to go out with, to sleep with. Because Pete was the best she could do.

Later, long after the party had ended and everyone had gone to their respective homes, Monica began to clean. She scrubbed all the dishes til they sparkled; she dusted all her knickknacks; she cleaned the refrigerator; she swept the floor with such vigor that she almost missed the tiny speck of crimson on her brown floor. 

The tiny, red rose petal, curled at the edges, wilted and dead but still colorful. She didn't know how she had missed it every other time she had cleaned, for it must have been a week or two old. 

She didn't remember ever getting red roses.

She didn't know how it had gotten there. 


	3. Linger

A/N: Thank you for all the reviews! I don't really have much to say - shocking, I know. Sorry if this chapter is poo, but thanks for reading it anyway. This chapter takes place several weeks after Monica finds the rose petal. Hugs and kisses to all! ;)

Disclaimer: I own nothing here. Somebody please do my biology homework. That had nothing to do with a disclaimer.

CHAPTER 3

Monica awoke slowly, in a daze. The first thing that registered was that her head was pounding as though someone was beating it with a hammer. The second thing was that it was much, much too bright. She always kept the shades drawn in her room, so the early morning light couldn't get in.

She opened her eyes one by one, rubbing the sleep from them. She blinked, staring at the ceiling, then the walls. The light filled her eyes, making her head hurt worse and nausea fill her stomach. As she looked around, she realized she was in the living room of her apartment. A pillow was under her head, and a blanket covered her body. 

But she didn't know how she had gotten there. She had no idea why she was on the couch, who had put her there, or what had gone on the night before. It was all so fuzzy.

She pulled the blanket off her body and stared down at her clothes. She was wearing a knee-length black skirt and short purple top. She groaned and buried her face in the pillow. Slowly, slowly, the night came back to her. She and Rachel had gone out for drinks.... 

__

The Night before

Monica sat at the small table self-consciously. She was the only person in the whole place who was sitting alone - she knew it. She tapped her foot and bobbed her head, looking around as if for a friend who was coming to meet her.

But no one was coming. Rachel had dragged her out of the apartment earlier, still in a pit of self-pity, with only four days left until Ross's wedding. In just thirty minutes, Rachel had downed her fourth drink and was dancing wildly with her third man. Monica, meanwhile, was sipping a watery margarita and feeling very much alone.

_That's it_, she decided. She stood up, picked up her jacket and purse, and headed for the door. 

"Going so soon?"

Monica turned to see a man leaning against the bar, looking her up and down. He was slightly taller than her, and wearing a light blue shirt that fitted nicely around his muscular build. His obnoxious line did not please her. She raised one eyebrow.

"Yes, well, places to go, people to meet," she said coldly. 

"It's only 8:30! C'mon, lemme buy you a drink," he said kindly. "I won't let you go until you say yes."

Monica sighed. "Fine. But just one."

"So what's your name?" 

"Monica," she said shortly.

"Nice to meet you, Monica. I'm Jason. Now, before I go and make a fool of myself, there's no boyfriend coming back the bathroom to kick my ass, is there?"

"Nope," Monica replied. She glanced at Jason. He _was _cute; probably about her age; charming, and only slightly over-confident. The kind of guy who was perfect for a random hook-up. Maybe, she thought, she needed to have some fun for once in her life. It wouldn't hurt anyone; Pete would never know, and tomorrow she could go back to her boring, safe lifestyle. She replied saucily, "In fact, there's no boyfriend at all."

"Y'know, teguilash not really that badsh," Monica slurred an hour later. The bar was pulsating with loud music, and her bart stool seemed to be shaking beneath her. 

She was wasted. So was Jason. And so, presumably, was Rachel, who'd Monica last seen half an hour before playing tonsil tennis with a guy who looked like he should've been home studying for a midterm. 

"Two more shots, please!" Jason called to the bartender. A moment later, two more tiny glasses of tequila were placed in front of them. Grinning stupidly, Monica downed the bitter liquid, slamming her glass back on the table with vigor. She felt _great._ Her heart was lighter than it had been in ages. 

"Douwandans?" Jason yelled over the loud chatter and extreme music.

"What?" Monica screamed back.

"Do you want to dance?" Jason called.

"Sure!" Monica replied exuberantly. She jumped off her seat and, swaying slightly, followed Jason out to the dance floor. As soon as they got there, a slow song started up. Smiling sheepishly, Jason wrapped his arms around Monica's waist and began to rock back and forth. 

Caught off guard for a moment, Monica put her arms around his neck. They stayed like that for a minute before Jason said, "You know, Monica, you're the prettiest woman in this room." The scent of alcohol was strong on his breath.

"Thank you," she said awkwardly.

"You're also the smartest, and the sweetest, and the sexiest," Jason drawled, his hands sliding down from Monica's waist and resting on her butt.

"Um, Jason - " she began. This was getting out of hand - his hands shouldn't be there, they shouldn't be on her ass, she thought through a haze of alcohol. She had a _boyfriend_.

"Come on, Monica," he whispered. He bent down and began to kiss her exposed shoulder softly. She shivered as his lips ran up her neck, his hands still on her backside. His lips caught hers in a gentle, then demanding kiss. She was on fire as his tongue explored her mouth roughly. Pete never kissed her like this. It made her toes curl.

But even as she relaxed into the kiss, into his arms, she knew it wasn't right. Not only because she was cheating on Pete - that wasn't her biggest concern - but because she'd thought only one man could make her feel this way, even when he wasn't touching her. 

The thought made her sad. She wiped it away quickly and looked up at Jason, who's hands were now slipping under her blouse. "Let me take you home, Monica," he said breathily.

Monica only nodded as he pulled her out of the bar.

***************

Monica sat up, her face burning in shame. Had she really let that _scum_ take her home? But she hadn't slept with him - she knew that. What had stopped her? 

She turned over and glanced at the coffee table. A glass of water and three aspirin were sitting there. Who had put the glass there? It would leave a ring! she thought angrily. Then she noticed the magazine underneath it - and the rest of the night came flooding back.

***********

They continued to make out during the cab ride home, his hands groping under her shirt. Monica started to come down from her teguila-induced high as New York sped past. She was dizzy and seeing double. As Jason paid the driver, grabbed her by the ass, and pulled her into her apartment building, she lost her footing and stumbled. Jason laugh loudly and pulled her up, kissing her again. "Come on, baby, just a few more steps."

Monica groaned. She wanted to go home and go to sleep - but she couldn't say no to Jason now, could she? As they stumbled into her hallway, Monica started to laugh that drunken laugh where she didn't know what was so funny. She fell against a corner and Jason started to kiss her, his pelvis pressed against her thigh. Somewhere to her left, she heard a door open.

"What the _hell_?" The voice was familiar. "Monica?"

Monica opened her eyes and looked up blearily. Two Chandlers stood in a doorway. Both has his brow furrowed and was looking disgusted as he took in the scene.

"Fuck off, man," Jason said rudely. Monica opened her mouth to tell him not to be mean to Chandler, but he covered it with his lips. His hands reached up and grabbed her chest.

"Dude, get the hell off her," Chandler said, and Jason's body was pulled from hers. He fell against the opposite wall. "She's drunk off her ass."

"Hey," Monica said weakly.

"It's none of your business," Jason slurred. 

"Actually, it is. Now get the hell out of here before I call the police and report you for sexual harassment," Chandler spat. He grabbed Monica under her arms and pulled her upright as Jason slunk away. He reached into her purse, grabbed her keys, and unlocked the door, pulling her inside.

Chandler helped her to the couch and took off her shoes. "Dammit, Chandler, I was gonna get _laid_," she grumbled in irritation. The world was spinning around her, and blackness was threatening to edges of her pupils.

"You'll thank me tomorrow," he replied, laying her back gently. "Now, Mon, I'm gonna put some water and aspirin here, which you should try to take tomorrow morning before you throw up everything in your stomach. But don't worry, I'll put a magazine under it so you don't get a ring on your coffee table." His voice wasn't mocking or scathing, but gentle and respectful.

"Thanks," she said weakly, her head nodding. "For everything," she added with the only non-drunken part of her head.

"No problem," he said quietly. He fluffed the pillow under her head and tucked a blanket under her. 

Monica smiled and closed her eyes, almost unconscious. Somewhere, in that not-yet-asleep but hardly-even-awake stage where reality and dreams blur together, she heard a far-off voice whisper, "I love you", and felt the softest lips in the world brush against her forehead.

She knew who had said the words. She must be dreaming, she thought, because _that _man only told her _those_ words while she was sleeping. "I love you too," she murmured back.

But she wasn't sure if she'd said them out loud or just thought them.

******************

Chandler stared at Monica's smiling, sleeping face, and leaned down to kiss her forehead. "I love you," he whispered without thinking, letting his lips linger on her pale skin. 

But just as he'd expected, there was no response. 

A/N: Thanks for reading! Becca Boo - I didn't forget you! But your not online right now *sobs* Love you like a monkey doing... stuff! *Pinches Bec's little finger* Pa-HA!

*Yen*


	4. Blissful

A/N: Ahh this took so long for me to post! But that might be because I am in loooooove. Not that I have a boyfriend or anything. Just in love. Question: Is a freshman girl dating a junior guy too much of an age difference? Or maybe it's actually - do I have a chance? Anyway... thanks for sticking with this fic, I will definitely post quicker next time. Read and review, thankies!

Disclaimer: I own Jonathan Carmona. Or, you know, I don't. But I do own Becca! Muahahahaha! *Hugs the heck outta her* Feel better babe!

CHAPTER 4 - Blissful

3 Days Later

"Has anybody seen my Playboy - I mean, _USA Today_?" Chandler asked, entered Monica and Rachel's apartment. 

"Ha, ha - are you ready?" Monica snapped. She glanced at her watch - they had to be at the airport in half an hour for their flight to London.

"Almost, _mom_," Chandler muttered, reaching into the fridge and helping himself to a glass of orange juice and a muffin from the pantry. Shaking her head, Monica continued to pack things into her purse.

The phone let out a shrill, irritating ring. Sighing heavily, Monica picked it up. "Hello?" she said wearily.

"Hi, honey, it's me," Pete's voice said.

"Hey, what's up?" Monica asked, wondering why Pete was calling her when he should have been on the way to the airport. "You all ready to go?"

"Yeah, uh, that's the thing," Pete said hesitantly. "Look, Mon, I have some bad news. I'm - "

"Not coming," Monica finished dully as realization hit. Tears unexpectedly welled up in her eyes. 

"I'm so sorry," Pete said immediately. "I really, really am. My press conference in Hong Kong was rescheduled."

Monica's hurt transformed into angry indignation. "So miss it! It's just a press conference!" Chandler looked up at her, his brow furrowed in puzzlement, and she turned away from him quickly.

"It's a press conference that could send my company down the drain if I miss it!" Pete shot back.

"Is that all you care about? Your job?" Monica asked hotly.

"My job is my life!"

Monica paused. The comment stung - but not as much as it should. Slowly, she replied, "So I guess that means I'm not a part of it."

"God, Monica - I didn't mean it that way. You have to understand. _Please_, try to understand. Can you do that for me?"

"I understand," Monica said hollowly. 

"I'll make it up to you, I promise." Pete sighed. "Tell Ross and Emily how sorry I am. Their present has already been shipped. Mon, I'm - "

"I know," Monica said. "Bye." She clicked the phone off, feeling strangely empty. Chandler stood up and took a hesitant step towards her. 

"Mon?"

"Pete's not coming," she said. 

"Oh, Mon. I'm so sorry," Chandler said, wrapping her in a hug. "God, he sucks."

Monica half-smiled. "Thanks. That helped."

"No problem. Hey, I noticed you've got a bunch of those muffins left... mind if I take one or two or nine?"

************

Monica looked around the room. Ross and Emily's rehearsal dinner was drawing to a close, and somehow, Monica had ended up sitting at her table, alone, coming down from a buzz that was much too short. The Geller's and Walthum's money squabbles had long since ceased to entertain her, Joey had run off with the other bridesmaid, the bar was closing, and Chandler - where was Chandler? Monica hadn't seen him in a while. 

Deciding no one would notice if she left, Monica picked up her purse and headed up the stairs to Chandler's hotel room. She knocked on the door, realizing pathetically that Chandler being there was her last hope at salvaging her otherwise hopeless night.

The door swung open, and Chandler, clad in blue pajamas, stood on the threshold. 

"Hey," Monica said, leaning against the doorframe.

"Hey," he replied.

"Can I come in?" she asked. 

"Sure," Chandler said, stepping out of her way. Monica entered, unsure of what she was going to say or do. It wasn't as if they were teenagers who could have a slumber party. She turned around and looked at Chandler. A warmth, an inappropriate urge, washed over her.

"So... uh..." Chandler said, swinging his arms from side to side. She grabbed his wrists to stop them. Then she leaned in and kissed him on the lips. She wasn't sure what made her do it - if it was the fact that he was the only friend she had at the moment, or if it was an old longing, or maybe the three sour apple martinis she'd consumed earlier - but it felt right.

"Whoa-oh," Chandler mumbled as she pulled away. "Monica... what was that? Don't you have a boyfriend or something?"

"Barely," Monica said, turning around and flopping down on the edge of the bed. "Dammit, Chandler! All I want is someone who will be there for me, you know? Someone I can always count on! Is that too much to ask?"

"No, not at all," Chandler replied. "But I mean... kissing me isn't gonna fix any of that. You don't want to ruin what you have with Pete."

"But you felt it," Monica whispered. "I just _kissed_ you - Chandler - and it didn't feel weird. It felt _right_."

"But... but..." Chandler stuttered.

"Chandler? Shut up," Monica said, and covered his mouth with hers. She didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to think about it. They kissed until nothing mattered anymore, until nothing made sense, until Pete was a distant memory, until the rest of the night faded into a blissful haze.

*Yen*


	5. Aching

A/N: "The hills are alive with the sound - OF music." I watched like 20 episodes on Friday 'cause I stayed home - jeeze, for being sick, I had a great time. Did anyone else see the cast on Oprah? That was soo funny! So funny, I don't even know what to say about it. Jen cried a thousand times, and Matty was hilarious. As usual.

Sorry this chapter took so long, my computer is a bitch! But thanks for reading. This chapter is a little longer to make up for it :) 

Disclaimer: I own nothing here... but I do own Becca! Yes, yes I do. Don't even try to argue. I also own... HER PRESENT! Muahahaha! Love ya monkey bunny! I mean... buddy....

CHAPTER 5 - Aching

"I'm getting married today!"

Monica's eyes popped open. _What the..._

"Yeah you are!"

_Oh, shit._

"I'm getting married today! A-whoo-hoo!"

Monica heard a door close, and then just her own heart pounding. Although she'd just woken up, she felt unbearably hot - stifled and suffocated by the cheap hotel-room blanket. Her face burned and her body tingled as the previous night came back to her. She stayed burrowed under the comforters, heat radiating from her body and Chandler's, until Chandler coughed.

She stuck her head out from the blanket. Early-morning light filtered in through the window. A sharp coolness bit at her nose and cheeks. Monica turned her head slowly to face Chandler, who had the blanket pulled up almost to his shoulders. She was suddenly very aware that under this millimeter-thick blanket, they were both naked. Naked and inches apart and closer than they'd ever been before.

Neither of them spoke for a second. Finally, Chandler said, "So..."

"I'm gonna get dressed," Monica finally mumbled, looking away from him. 

"Oh, okay. Uh, yeah, that's a good idea. I'll just, uh, close my eyes, then," Chandler stammered. Slowly Monica extracted herself from the bedding and stepped out, covering her chest protectively, although she knew Chandler's eyes were closed.

_It's not like he didn't see them last night,_ she thought miserably. _Them and quite a bit more._ She pulled her panties off the television antennae. 

They'd slept together. Passionately, gently, strangely, comfortably, they had committed an act that was so wrong and so right that Monica's heart, mind, and body had never felt so tangled and confused. Quickly, she dressed, as if clothing herself speedily would take back last night.

"So, um, I'm gonna go," she said as she fished one of her shoes out from under the bed. 

"Don't you think we should talk?" Chandler said.

Monica stood up to find him staring at her with an unexplainable look in his eyes. Her heart jumped. Chandler... she had _slept_ with Chandler. Part of her wanted so badly to crawl back into his arms and kiss him again, just like last night, when she had let everything go. 

But it would never work. It would never, ever work and Monica knew it.

"There's nothing to talk about," she said quietly. "Because this never happened." Monica turned quickly away from the hurt on Chandler's face.

"But - Monica, you said yourself, you _felt_ something - "

"I said it never happened!" she said, more sharply than she had planned.

"Okay," Chandler said after a long pause. Monica swallowed hard and, without another word, left the room.

*********** 

Monica stood in the small entryway to the church, glancing out the window furtively. Joey had gotten a distressed call from Phoebe earlier saying that Rachel was on her way to London to stop the wedding, and Monica was attempting to head her off at the door.

After making sure her roommate was no where in sight, she slumped against the wall. She rubbed her temples and sighed, guilt spreading through her. She'd cheated on Pete. She knew this instinctively, knew this was where her guilt was coming from. Monica was disgusted with herself. She'd never had a cheating personality. She never thought she would be the kind of person to cheat so ruthlessly, especially on someone as wonderful as Pete. She really liked Pete - hell, maybe she was even falling in love with him. 

But somehow - for some reason - all Monica could think about was Chandler. Chandler's amazing smile; his body; the look on his face as she'd left his room earlier that morning - 

The door swung open. Monica jumped and looked up to see Chandler gently closing the door to the church behind him.

"Did you find her?" she asked as soon as she had found her voice.

"No, Joey's watching the other entrance. Listen," Chandler said, lowering his voice. "I know you said we didn't need to talk, but we do. Last night was - "

"Really stupid," Monica interjected hastily. "I - I was drunk out of my mind, I didn't even know who you were..."

"You didn't seem very drunk," Chandler said. "And I've seen you drunk."

Monica blushed. "Well, maybe I wasn't showing it. But that's not the point. Look, it doesn't matter what happened - all that matters is we can't even do it again, we can't even speak of it again. I have - I have something really amazing with Pete, and I screwed up, but I would really appreciate it if you left me to deal with it."

"I don't know if I can," Chandler whispered. He reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Monica shivered, her body moving toward his on it's own accord. She reached out to him, everything in her aching to touch him.

Chandler's eyes suddenly widened and he pulled away. "So your hair's fine now, it was just that one piece sticking up there..." he said in a husky voice, his eyes darting behind Monica. All at once, Monica realized what was going on. She turned around, expecting to see a wedding guest standing behind her, and was shocked to see none other than Pete Becker, grinning from ear to ear.

"P-Pete?" she gasped. "What are you doing here?" 

"I took a break from the press conference," he said, leaning over and kissing her. "I realized I had to come. I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner." He kissed her again, longer this time. When he released her, Monica saw Chandler standing against the wall, looking slightly green. Shame filled every crevice of her body.

"I'm - I'm so glad you came," Monica finally stuttered, looking up at Pete. She smiled as warmly as possible. "We should go inside, the ceremony will be starting soon." She grabbed his hand and pulled him inside without a backwards glance. 

"Monica?"

Monica sighed, pulled her headphones off, and looked up into Chandler's wide blue eyes. Overhead, the seatbelt sign had just dinged off, and the captain had announced that passengers were now free to roam about the cabin, something Monica had been dreading. She knew that the moment Chandler could get up and talk to her, he would. In fact, he'd been trying to talk to her since the afternoon before, at the wedding. Until now, she had succeeded in escaping. But at 32,000 feet and with 4 hours in a metal tube ahead of them, she was trapped. 

"Hmm?" she asked, pretending to be puzzled when she knew full well why Chandler had disturbed her.

"We need to talk," he said. He nodded towards the bathroom pointedly. She shook her head. He nodded again. She shook her head again. He reached down and pinched her, and with a final nod, stalked toward the bathroom.

A quick glance around confirmed to Monica that Joey was asleep a row up. Furtively, she stood up and hurried towards the tiny bathroom. She knocked once and opened it. 

Chandler had already squeezed himself into the tiny space, and with Monica jammed into it, it was a tight fit. Even with Chandler perched on the sink, their bodies were much too close for Monica's comfort.

"Is this really necessary?" she sighed.

"Yes," Chandler said seriously. "Monica, you can't just walk away like nothing happened. We has _sex_ - "

"Shhh!" Monica hissed, staring around as if someone was there to hear. "Shh. I _know_ what we did, there's no need to broadcast it to British Air Flight 77." As she reached up, her arm grazed Chandlers', and she pulled it back quickly. Electricity crackled between them.

"Chandler," she said in a low voice. "I'm with Pete. What happened the other night was - was a mistake. And we can never talk about it again."

"I was a mistake?" Chandler asked, sounding so hurt that Monica's heart tightened in her chest.

"No - I mean, yes, it's just that - God, Chandler, you're making it worse! It's fucking hard enough, can't you just leave it alone! Can't we both just go on like it never happened?" Frustrated tears stung Monica's eyes. Chandler reached up and cupped her face in his hands. He leaned forward and her lips brushed against his.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I can't leave it alone - "

"Excuse me! Excuse me!"

Someone was banging on the door about three inches from Monica's ear. She jumped away, losing her balance and falling into Chandler's arms.

"Federal regulations state that only one person can occupy a lavatory at a time!" There was a sudden clicking, and the door to the bathroom opened. A furious-looking flight attendant stood in the doorway, a line of people standing behind her. They all looked in with interest, giggling.

"We were just - " she stammered.

"Please return to your seats," the flight attendant said coolly. Burning with shame, Monica hurried back to her seat, with Chandler right behind her. She almost collapsed with relief as she saw that Joey was still fast asleep in his seat.

Monica drained her coffee, glancing tiredly around the crowded maternity ward. She sighed. She thought she'd gotten over her baby fever, but with Phoebe's brother's triplets just hours from birth and all these babies around her, Monica was pretty depressed.

"Another coffee, miss?" Chandler stood over her, a flimsy Styrofoam cup in each hand.

"Why, thank you," Monica said, taking one. "How much do I owe you?"

"Just a few minutes of your time," Chandler said, plopping down next to her.

She groaned. "Chandler, I told you - "

"I know what you told me. It was a mistake. You were drunk, you were depressed, it can never be spoken of again, good-bye. Does that sum it up?"

"Pretty much."

"Okay. Now can I tell you one thing? What we did in London - well, I don't think it was just because we were in London."

"What wasn't just because you were in London?" Rachel asked from behind, her voice playful.

"We had too many fish and chips," Chandler said, jumping up. Monica rolled her eyes. "Yes, I think Monica and I really like fish and chips. Mon, wanna go see if they have any in the cafeteria?" He pointed down the hallway adjacent to them.

"I... whatever," Monica groaned, following Chandler and leaving a perplexed Rachel in the hospital chair.

"Great story," Monica spat as they turned a corner. "Could that have _been_ any more lame?"

"What did you _want_ me to say?" Chandler asked.

"It was your idea to have this little conversation right there in the open," Monica shot back. Suddenly Chandler grabbed the knob of a door labeled "custodian", turned it, and pulled Monica inside. "What the hell?" she gasped, stumbling in among the brooms and buckets.

"We're finishing this right now," Chandler said, crossing his arms. "I'm not really a stand-up guy, but I'm taking a stand. I want you to look me in the eye and say that London meant absolutely nothing to you."

Monica's mouth opened but no words came out. She couldn't have spoken if she'd even known what she wanted to say. 

And then he kissed her. He leaned forward and really kissed her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a tight embrace. Heat shot through her body, radiating from his lips. She ran her hands through his hair, wanting him closer, needing him with her body and heart. When she finally came up for air, she breathed, "This can never go anywhere." 

"Uh huh," Chandler said, gasping for breath. 

"No one can ever know about it." His hands ran over her body, distracting her.

"Mmhmm," he agreed, and then their lips met again. As Monica fell against the wall, his body pressing into hers, she knew that this was how it was supposed to be. 

A/N: Thanks for reading! In a world where I have three tests tomorrow, just knowing someone out there cares is wonderful! Now please review nicely or I'll send Chandler's evil twin Chuck after you. 

Don't say I didn't warn you.

*Yen*


	6. Forgetting

A/N: Happy December! I love December. It's my favorite. It's so... merry! We even sang Christmas carols in Spanish! I love the Christmas season! Damn Becca got SNOW today... I wish it snowed here. If anyone has any snow to send me, I would greatly appreciate it. I'll send you some sand from - OH MY GOD! - the exact spot where "The O.C." is filmed! *gags* I have never watched The O.C. but everyone I know worships it. It's filmed in the city next to mine... which is NOT that close to Orange County. But this is a ridiculous tangent so onwards...

Disclaimer: I do, by the way, own Becca. Oh, and I own this:

My friend: hey what are enemas?

Me: however shall i explain it?

I really, really worry about my friends sometimes.

CHAPTER 6 - Forgetting

Monica peeked stealthily out through the peephole. When she made sure no one was coming, she opened the door, slipped outside, and ran barefoot across the hall. She opened the door to the apartment across from hers and hurried to the bedroom.

Chandler was perched on his bed reading the newspaper, his glasses sitting jauntily on the end of his nose. He looked up and smiled as he saw her standing there, closing the door gently behind her.

"Will Joey be home soon?" she asked, praying he wouldn't be.

"Not for a while," Chandler replied. Without another word, Monica leapt forward and cupped his face in her hands, kissing him hungrily. He pulled her legs onto the bed, and his arms roamed her back. Within moments he was fumbling with her bra strap and she was unbuttoning his shirt.

It had been three weeks since Phoebe had given birth to the triplets, three weeks since the day their torrid love affair has began. They were quickly mastering the art of secrecy and lying; one would sneak to the other's bedroom late at night or early in the morning, or in the afternoon. They'd even done it in the mop closet at Central Perk. 

Monica was in the middle of unbuckling Chandler's belt when a door opened outside the room. They both froze as Joey's voice rang out, "Chandler, are you home?" He started to walk across the kitchen and living room.

"Get over there, over there!" Chandler hissed, shoving Monica to the side of the bed. She rolled off and flattened herself on the floor. Chandler wrapped a robe around himself just as the door opened.

"Hey, man, what are you doing?" Joey asked.

"Nothing, nothing at all, just sitting here by myself reading the paper," Chandler said in a high voice. Monica couldn't breathe, but she was sure Joey would hear her heart thumping. 

This is not good, not good, not good...

"Okay, um, do you want to go down to the coffeehouse?" Joey asked.

"No, I'm think I'm okay, actually," Chandler said.

"'Kay, then, see you - what's this? Dude, is this a _bra_?"

_Oh no._

"What?" Chandler asked. "Oh! Oh that! Well, yes, that is a bra, it's, um... I don't know how it got there! I was going to ask you about it..." He trailed off.

"Oh, uh, yeah, that might have been from the other day... the duck had an accident in my bedroom so I sorta brought Christine in here... I changed the sheets though, don't worry," Joey said quickly. Monica squirmed in disgust. "So I'll just take this and then - uh, see you," he said, closing the door. Monica stayed behind the bed until she heard Joey leave the apartment.

"So, Joey's got your bra," Chandler said grimly. 

*****************

"How many blueberries do you think are in this muffin?" Phoebe asked, holding a blueberry muffin up to the light. Monica sipped her coffee and shrugged. She glanced at Chandler, who had been tapping his foot impatiently for the past five minutes. 

"I don't know - hey, why don't you go ask Gunther?" Chandler suggested.

"That's a good idea, he's a food man," Phoebe said as she stood up, leaving Monica and Chandler alone on the couch.

"So are you coming over tonight?" Chandler asked as soon as Phoebe was out of earshot.

"I don't think so," Monica mumbled. 

"Why not?"

"I'm kind of going out with Pete," she said, averting her eyes as his face fell.

"Oh." Chandler's voice was heavy with disappointment. 

"I'm sorry - "

"Don't worry about it," Chandler said quickly. "No big deal." He stared off into space. Monica sighed. She wasn't only cheating on Pete - now she felt like she was cheating on _Chandler_.

"I'll try to come over when I get home, okay?" Monica said, trying desperately to wipe the crushed look off Chandler's face. 

"Yeah, that'd be cool," Chandler said casually. "If you have time."

_I wish I had all the time for you,_ Monica thought sadly. 

**************

A sharp wind blew through the street, ruffling Monica's hair and sending a chill down her spine. Pete put his arm around her without a word, and she relaxed into his embrace. They walked silently for a few minutes, glancing in brightly lit shop windows. The aroma of Grey's Papaya hot dogs surrounded Monica, who was hungry after eating a miniscule fish that had cost so much, Monica was sure it must have been straight from Prince William's fish tank.

Pete kissed the side of Monica's head softly, and she smiled. These were the moments she loved. This was why she was in a relationship - the comfort, the warmth, the simplicity. She knew Pete would go to the ends of the Earth for her.

They continued to walk down the street, crowded despite the later hour. As they passed Tiffany's, Monica's eyes roved over the jewelry displayed. Right in the middle was a large diamond ring. "Oh," Monica uttered softly.

"What?" Pete asked.

"Oh, nothing, it's just - that ring is gorgeous," she said, pointing. 

"You wanna try it on?"

Monica looked at him in shock. "Can you do that?"

"Sure, come on." He grabbed her hand and pulled her inside.

"Oh, I don't know - " Monica stammered as Pete led her up to the counter.

"Hello, my girlfriend would like to try on the ring in the display case," Pete said matter-of-factly to the woman working. "The big one."

The woman nodded and took a key from her pocket. She opened the case and took the ring out. "This is called a princess cut one-stone engagement ring. The diamond is a one-of-kind." She handed the ring to Monica, who slipped it on her finger. It was a perfect fit. Monica moved her hand around, looking at it from different angles.

"This is the kind of ring I want when I get engaged," she said quietly, not noticing that Pete was listening.

When the woman told her the price, Monica's jaw dropped. "Who-a."

"It looks great on you, Mon," Pete said over her shoulder. She turned around and smiled at him. He kissed her gently on the lips.

A few minutes later, they left store. Pete called for his chauffeur, and minutes later, he came and whisked them off to Pete's apartment. As they rode away, Monica stared out the window furtively.

"What's the matter?" Pete asked.

"I just - I feel like I'm forgetting something," she said, furrowing her brow.

"Well, if you can't remember, it must not be very important," Pete said sensibly.

"Yeah," Monica said. '"Yeah, you're right."

A/N: Thanks for reading! Reviews help me along... thanks! Luv 2 all!

*Yen*


	7. Bitter

A/N: Happy Christmas Eve Eve!  I woke up this morning, discovered I was alone _(b/c I smell),_ and said that out loud.  Teehee.  I hope yall are having a great holiday!  Thank God no school... anyways... thanks for reviewing, sorry this took so long!  I just got a new comp and I hooked up the DSL this morning.  I'm tellin ya, following the directions on that step-by-step CD sure was an adventure.  _(haha I'm lying. I actually got my dog to do it. The funny thing is I don't actually have a dog. I wonder who hooked my dsl up then...) _Speaking of adventures.... Bec, it was pouring when I got home but it was all worth it!  _(I know, u told me when you were walking home, dumb*ss, hehe) _Ooh and Happy Hanukkah to everyone too!  Okay random A/N, w/e... _(I have feet!)_

Disclaimer: I own nothing!  Except a terrible frightening picture of me looking "seductive."  Or sexy? _(Or not. Believe me, I know sexy and that pic was not sexy)_

CHAPTER 7 - Bitter

            "Morning, beautiful."

            "Mmm," Monica murmured.  She turned over and saw Pete standing over her, tightening a tie.  "Morning."

            "You can go back to sleep, you have a few hours before work.  I just didn't want you to wake up alone," Pete whispered.

            Monica yawned.  "Thanks.  I should probably get up anyway."  She stretched and fell back into the soft down pillows.

            Pete kissed the tip of her nose.  "Jan's making breakfast for you.  I have to go to work, but I'll call you later, okay?"

            "'Kay," Monica muttered.  He smiled one last time and left the room.  A few minutes later, she got out of the large bed and walked, to the bathroom.  She took a long shower and then followed the tantalizing scent of eggs and bacon to the kitchen.  She ate breakfast quickly and then put on some clothes.  

            I could get used to living like this, she thought as she left the 2-story apartment, rode a class elevator to the ground floor, and had the door opened for her by the doorman.

            I could definitely get used to this.

            Monica opened the door to her apartment and sauntered inside that afternoon.  She'd barely put her purse down when Chandler stormed in and slammed the door behind him.

            "Hey, what's - "

            "Where the hell were you last night?" he demanded, his eyes flashing.

            "What?" 

            "I stayed up half the night waiting for you - you said you'd come over when you got home - I was worried out of my mind!" he practically shouted.

            "I spent the night at Pete's!  What's the big deal?" 

            "The big deal?  The big deal?  The big deal is I thought you'd been - been - mugged, or, or raped or something!  Nobody knew where you were!"

            "You're not my keeper, Chandler." Monica said angrily.

            "Yeah, well, you could have called me, at least," he said sourly.

            "Oh, yeah, and what do I tell Pete?  'Hey, let me just call the guy I'm seeing on the side to tell him we can't have sex tonight, see you in the bedroom!'"  She put her hands on her hips and glared at him.

            "You could have said you needed to call one of your friends to tell them you wouldn't be home!  I'm still your friend, aren't I, Monica?"

            Monica sighed in exasperation.  "Of course you are, it's just - "

            "It's just what?  You don't care about me, do you?"

            "You are impossible!" Monica cried.  "Look, I'm sorry I didn't cater to your every whim, all right?  But it's not like you're my boyfriend or anything!"

            "You're right," Chandler said quietly.  "You're right, I'm not."  Shaking his head, he left the apartment.

            "Chandler - " she began, but he was gone.  She threw herself down on the couch, crying without knowing why.  

            It's just because you hate fighting.  It's just because Chandler's your friend, it's not because he means anything else.

            Monica was just grabbing a tissue from a box on the coffee table when the door to Rachel's bedroom opened slowly, and Rachel stepped out.  Her mouth was open and her face was slightly pale.

            They stared at each other for a moment, Monica's eyes widening in terror.  "Rachel, how much did you - "

            "Enough," Rachel said quietly.  

            "Oh, God, Rach, please don't tell anyone, please," Monica begged insistently.  "I'm going to - I'm going to - do something..."

            "How long has it been going on?" 

            "Since London," Monica said resignedly, thinking that maybe giving Rachel the details would shut her up.

            "Are you going to go on like this forever?" she asked.

            "No, of course not!"

            "Are you going to end it with Chandler?" Rachel asked, raising her eyebrows.

            "I - I don't know.  After that, maybe..."

            "What about Pete?"

            "I... I don't think so.  I don't know.  Look, I don't know what I'm going to do, but I'll figure it out soon.  Just please don't tell anyone.  I'll - I'll pay you, or do all your chores, anything, Rach.  Just don't tell."

            "I won't," Rachel said, and Monica let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.   

            "Thank you so much," Monica said, running over to Rachel and hugging her.  "I promise I'll do something soon."  I just don't know what.

            "So Thanksgiving is at your house tomorrow, right, Mon?"

            Monica looked away form her coffee and up at Joey.  "Yeah, of course.  Everybody wanna come over around one?"

            "Sounds good," Ross said, and Phoebe nodded.  

            "I don't think I'll be able to make it," Chandler said.  Everyone stared at him.  

            "What?" Phoebe said blankly.  The group had been having Thanksgiving together for five years - the idea of one of them not showing up was unheard of.  Monica squirmed uncomfortably.  She and Chandler had barely spoken since their fight two days before.

            "Why not?" Joey asked, looking concerned.  "You don't have to eat anything, just come - "

            "I just don't really feel like it," Chandler said with a shrug.  Monica could feel Rachel's eyes boring holes into her, but she refused to look up.

            The other four were silent for a minute.  "Oh - okay, then," Ross finally said.  "Um, you guys, is something - is something going on that I don't know about?  Chandler?"

            "Nothing's going on, Ross, I just don't feel like coming to Thanksgiving dinner, okay?  What's the big deal?"  With that, Chandler stood up, mumbling, "I have to go," and hurried from the coffeehouse.

            "I'm going to go see - " Joey said, looking stricken and starting to follow Chandler. 

            "No, I'll go," Monica burst out.  She cut Joey off and chased Chandler down as he walked back to their building.

            "Chandler!" she yelled.  He ignored her.  She sped up and grabbed his arm.  "Chandler, come on.  Don't do this."

            "Don't do what, Monica?  Forget about you?"  His voice was bitter.

            "Why do you have to be so stubborn?!  I said I was sorry I didn't call you, what else do you want?  If you keep acting like this, everyone's going to get suspicious."

            "Why do you care?  Look, just leave me alone.  Go hang out with your boyfriend and leave me the fuck alone," he spat.  He shook his arm from her grasp and walked briskly away from the apartment building, down the busy street.

            His words bit at Monica like slivers of ice.  "I care about you, Chandler!  Don't you understand that?  I care about you!"

            He stopped and turned around.  She walked a few feet, closing the gap between them.  "Why?" he asked in the voice of a child.

            "Why?  Well, because - because you're smart, and funny, and you listen to me.     You always care about everyone more than you care about yourself, and you're one of my best friends in the world.  I don't know what I would do without you."  Monica said all of this in a rush, her words jumbled and hurried.  

             "Mon, I just don't know if I can do this.  It's not fun and easy anymore, it's not simple - " 

            "But it can be!" Monica interrupted pleadingly.  "Please, Chandler, I don't want to lose you.  I don't want to lose my best friend."  She reached up and kissed him softly, her cold lips warming against his.  Crowds rushed by, people stared, but for one moment the only things that existed were Monica and Chandler.

            "That's only gonna work for so long," he said hoarsely, but Monica knew she had won him over.

            "Come to Thanksgiving dinner.  I'll make you some macaroni and cheese," Monica promised.

            "Oh, but that will always work," he said with a grin, and arm in arm, they went back to their apartment.  And for one minute, Monica lost herself in the illusion that they were the only two people in the world.

A/N: BECCA!  You rock my socks like Chandler in a box.  Everybody, she uploaded it so thank her!  You saved my life babe! _(don't I always?) _I love you to death! *hugs the crap outta her* _(You're gonna take that back, aren't you?)_ Oh and anybody seen LOTR: The Return of the King yet?  Ahhhh I MUST SEE IT I'm going to die! hehe well Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, and Happy New Year! _(go me!)_

*Yen*

_**All A/N comments in italics/ parenthesis courtesy of Becca_

*Bec*


	8. Crazy

A/N: Hey! Becca and I are update buddies! It's been a long time since we've done that! Go check out the second pivotal chapter of Writings on the Wall. Love you babe! Thanks for the reviews, I have nothing else to say! J 

Disclaimer: I own Orlando Bloom! Really, I do. If you don't believe me, I don't care! You just won't be invited to the wedding! 

Chapter 8 - Crazy

"Oh the weather outside is frightful but the fire's so delightful," Chandler said. He had just entered Monica and Rachel's apartment. "Mon?"

"In here," she called from her bedroom. He opened the door to her room and found her sitting on the floor, surrounded by a sea of presents and wrapping paper.

"Wrapping a little late this year, huh?" he commented.

"I always wrap on Christmas Eve. It's one of my secrets," she said with a smile. "So what's up?"

"Nothin... I just noticed that everyone else is out shopping..." he said suggestively.

"Yeah?" Monica said, feeling an excited tingling somewhere around her stomach.

"Yeah. But you know, if you have too much wrapping to do," Chandler said, "I could just go."

"I think I could take a break," Monica grinned. She stood up and he pulled her to him, kissing her roughly. Her hands fumbled with his belt and he was about to slip her flannel shirt off when she caught sight of the clock and gasped.

"Oh, shit! Pete's picking me up in thirty minutes!"

"It's okay, I can be quick," Chandler mumbled against her skin.

"No, no, I really have to get ready. I'm sorry, sweetie - tomorrow, okay? I promise," she said, prying herself away from Chandler with difficulty. She hurried from her bedroom and he sat down on the bed, watching her wistfully.

"Okay," he said. "Merry Christmas."

But she didn't hear him.

Monica looked herself up and down in her mirror. Not bad, she thought with satisfaction. She had on a long, velvety red dress that made her breasts bigger and her waist smaller - something so badly wanted and so rarely found in a dress. She'd swept her dark waves up into a bun on top of her head with tiny ringlets cascading down her face. She glanced at her bedside clock. Pete would be there any minute. She smacked her dark red lips together one last time and left her bedroom.

"Whoa," Joey said, glancing up from a game of Scrabble her friends were playing. "Mon - whoa."

"That good?" Monica asked.

"Monica's gonna get laid tonight!" Phoebe said teasingly, taking a sip of eggnog.

"Yeah, I don't know if I want my baby sister going out looking that good," Ross said, whistling appreciatively. "The other women might throw things at you."

Monica glanced at Chandler. His face had turned red and he seemed to be suppressing the urge to say something. "You okay, Chandler?" she said pointedly. 

"Yeah. Fine. You look great, Mon," he said in a choked voice. She smiled warmly at him, again feeling the tingling.

Someone knocked on the door. Monica tore her eyes from Chandler and hurried to open it. Pete stood with a single white rose in his hand, wearing a suit and a smile. 

"Hey," she said, leaning in to kiss him. "Merry Christmas."

"You too - God, you look gorgeous," Pete said, kissing her again. Monica could almost feel Chandler's eye boring holes in the back of her head.

"We'd better go - bye, you guys," Monica said, ushering Pete out the door.

"Merry Christmas, everyone. I'll have her home by morning," Pete said, waving to her friends. As she closed the door behind her, Monica sighed with relief. Why was it that kissing Pete in front of Chandler made Monica feel like someone had injected acid into her stomach?

Monica blinked, trying to appear as if Pete's business partner's tenth story about his baby daughter was thrilling to her. Pete's Christmas party was unbelievably dull. As much as Monica tried not to judge people, business people really were not interesting. 

Monica was about to get up and walk away when Pete interrupted, "You know, Martin, I'm so sorry, but Monica and I really have to go. See you Monday, okay?" With that, he pulled Monica from her seat and they wove their way through the room, waving at various people.

"Thank God!" Monica burst out as they entered the lobby of the hotel the party was at. 

"I know, I was actually afraid for my life in there." 

"I was afraid for _his_ life," Monica said, rolling her eyes. She slipped into her coat and turned to Pete. "So where are we going?"

"I was thinking maybe to the park," Pete said, his eyes twinkling.

"Sounds good," Monica said as he led her out to the street. Pete looked around the busy sidewalk, then put his hand up and waved. Monica wondered why he was hailing a cab when he had a chauffeur, until she looked down the street and saw - 

"Oh, my God," she murmured. A horse-drawn carriage was making it's way slowly down the street. It was decorated in red and green ribbons, and silvery lights. People honked and pointed as the carriage approached. Monica put her hand over her mouth and laughed.

Pete stepped up to the carriage and held his hand out to her. "After you," he said. Blushing like crazy, Monica accepted his hand and climbed into the carriage. The seats were made of comfortable leather, and several blankets sat waiting for her. Pete hopped into the carriage himself, settled the blankets around them, and said, "To the park!"

Monica couldn't stop laughing as the horses neighed and waited impatiently at a stop light. A group of actual carolers stopped and sung to them as they waited. Somehow, all the normal New York sights seemed magnified and beautiful from the horse-drawn carriage.

Slowly, the carriage arrived at Central Park, where the horses began to move at a more regular pace. Light snow fell on them. Monica snuggled into Pete's warm arms around her. 

"Pete, thank you so much. This is so amazing," she whispered.

"Nothing is too amazing for the woman I love," Pete said back. They rode along is silence for a few minutes, enjoying each other's company and the picturesque scene around them.

Suddenly, Pete pulled a small black box from his coat and held it out to Monica. "Pete," she admonished. "We said no gifts!"

"Just open it, Mon," Pete said quietly, a strange look in his eyes. A feeling of something between delight and dread filled Monica's stomach as she opened the tiny box with shaking fingers.

A ring - _the_ ring, the one from Tiffany's - sat inside. Monica gasped involuntarily. "Oh - oh," she stammered.

"Monica, I know we've only been together for 10 months, but I love you more than anything and I want to be with you forever. Will you marry me?" Pete asked in a husky voice.

Monica's mind was blank. _Think, Monica, think,_ she commanded herself. Did she want to marry Pete? Pete would be a good husband. She should marry Pete

But did she love Pete? Yes, she loved him - but did she really, all-out, want-to-spend-the-rest-of-their-lives-together love him? She didn't know, and she was afraid that by not knowing, she knew the answer. Her mind swirled as she tried to comprehend her own thoughts.

And then there was the matter of Chandler. She obviously couldn't marry Pete and carry on like a lustful teenager with Chandler. She would have to end it. But she didn't want to, she really didn't want to. 

_But it will never go anywhere with Chandler. Even if you ever told him... he wouldn't feel the same way. It doesn't matter at all. You'd only end up getting hurt. Marrying Pete is the _safe_ thing. _The realization that nothing would ever work with Chandler sealed the deal.

"Yes."

A/N: Wow I can't WAIT for your reviews. Haha… Happy New Year!

*Yen*


	9. Happy

A/N: Happy New Year! I know I said that in my last chapter but then I remembered that this is, in fact, a New Years chap, so I decided to update really soon. Hope you all have fun parties and such! I'm going to a party too, yay! Well, *coughs* when I said party, I mean two of my best friends and I watching _Friends_ and staring at pictures of Orlando Bloom and getting high off sparkling apple cider until midnight, at which point we will go outside and pull party poppers and try to find someone doing firecrackers illegally. Par-tay! 

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters! I would like a guest list of who would like to come to my wedding, the union of Yennifer Ann and Orlando Bloom, and which celebrity crush they are bringing. Apparently married men are acceptable ;) 

Chapter 9 - Happy

Pete slipped the ring on her finger, the gigantic Tiffany's diamond that Monica adored. As soon as she saw the rock against her small finger, the felt a hundred times better. And when she looked at Pete and saw how much he loved her, she felt even happier.

"I can't believe we're engaged!" she whispered. 

"Are you happy?" Pete asked.

"Of course," Monica answered. She kissed him. "Oh, my God, we have to tell everyone - we have to go home and tell my friends, and..." she paused, Chandler's face swimming in her mind for a second - and then went on, "And my parents, they'll be so surprised - my mom never thought I'd get married!" 

Monica chattered and stared at her finger the whole ride home, and when she jumped out of the carriage and entered her building, she had worked herself into such a frenzy that the entire Chandler matter had been shoved from her mind.

She opened the door to her apartment. Ross, Rachel, Phoebe and Joey were still sitting around watching TV and eating Christmas cookies she'd made the day before.

"Hey, what are you guys doing home so soon?" Rachel asked as greeting.

"We have an announcement," Monica said, unable to keep it in any longer. She scurried to the living room and held up her hand. "We're getting married!"

"Oh my God!" Phoebe squealed, moments before she and Rachel practically jumped on her, grabbing her hand and gasping at the ring, hugging her and talking excitedly. Monica was the center of attention; she was so caught up in the excitement that she didn't notice Chandler enter the room.

"Hey, what's going on?" he asked.

"Monica and Pete are engaged!" Phoebe cried. 

Chandler paused for a moment, his eyes widening slightly, his mouth forming an _O _ of surprise_. _Then he said quickly, "Wow. Congratulations!" He hugged her briefly and then stepped back. Guilt burned like acid in Monica's throat as his eyes met hers, sad and confused.

"So, who wants to open a bottle of champagne?" Rachel said, breaking the silence. While everyone scrambled for glasses, Monica composed herself.

_You shouldn't feel guilty. This is _your_ night. Enjoy it. Chandler's probably not even upset, just bummed that the sex is over._

"My night," she repeated quietly.

After champagne was passed out, and the group had gathered around the table, Joey made a toast. "To the first of us to leave Singledom - "

"Hey, what about me?" Ross interjected. "I've been married!"

"To the first of us to leave Singledom and hopefully not come back," Joey amended. "Monica and Pete!" They drank, Monica's new ring sparkling in the light.

"So, have you set a date?" Ross asked.

"No, we haven't talked about it yet. Tonight's just been so exciting," Monica said, smiling up at her fiancé.

"Actually, I was thinking - how about Valentine's Day?" Pete asked.

"So soon?" Monica and Chandler said together.

"Yeah, well, it's the day we got back together... if you don't want to, we could wait until next year, or any other day is fine..." Pete trailed off, failing to hide obvious disappointment.

"No! No, that sounds great! Pete, I love it," Monica said, kissing him on the cheek.

"So Valentine's Day it is?" Joey asked.

"Valentine's Day it is," Monica said with a smile. "Oh my God, that's only two months away! There's so much to do! We need a caterer, a florist, a band..." she continued with her list, and for the next half hour she, Rachel, and Phoebe were engrossed in a bridal magazine.

When Phoebe got up to get more champagne, Rachel nudged Monica and nodded towards the window. Chandler was standing on the balcony without so much as a sweater, his glass of champagne almost empty.

"What?" Monica hissed.

"Are you done playing with him?" Rachel asked.

"Okay, first of all, he's not a toy. And second of all, we both knew it was just a fling! It wasn't going to go on forever, just a big fun friend thing while I got over a rough spot," Monica said.

"Well, it may not seem like it to you, but he just got dumped," Rachel said. 

"Fine, I'll go apologize for making my body permanently unavailable," Monica sighed. "It's not like there were any feelings involved." She was trying desperately to get out of talking to Chandler and they both knew it.

"Still, how would you like it if he had waltzed back in here with Janice and announced he was marrying her?" Rachel pointed out. "I mean, look, I'm just trying to save your friendship, but if you don't want any help..."

"I'm going, I'm going," Monica said. She left the living room and climbed through the window.

"Hey, there," she said as she stepped into the chilly night. 

Chandler turned and looked at her. "Hey."

"Aren't you cold?" she asked, rubbing her arms.

Chandler shrugged. "Not really." He turned away and sipped his champagne. 

"Look, Chandler, I - "

"Hey, Mon, there's nothing to say, okay?" he said without looking at her.

"Okay," she said awkwardly. "I'm just sorry for - "

"Don't apologize!" he said heatedly. "There's nothing to apologize _for_. You're getting married! It's over. I understand."

"It was - it was fun," she said, completely at a loss.

"Yeah. Yeah, it was," Chandler said almost wistfully. "So now that you've done the fun thing, you want to do the marriage thing. I totally get that, and I'm happy for you." He forced a smile.

"Thanks. That means a lot to me." She paused, staring out at the city. Her heart was bouncing around in her chest, and she felt raw and exposed. "I hope you have the same thing someday."

"Nah, don't wish that on me," Chandler said. "I'm happier being alone. No commitment, no attachment, no worrying, no fights. I like this life better." He turned to her, a strange gleam in his eye, and said in an even tone, "In fact, I'm glad you ended this. Wouldn't want anyone to think I would actually want to settle down." 

As Chandler's words washed over her, it was like the gaping wound had closed up. Monica would never feel guilty about Chandler again.

"2 minutes to midnight!" someone called out. A cheer went up. Monica yelled with the rest, refilled her drink and went back to the table to sit on Pete's lap, where Ross was telling a long, drunken story about New Year's 1987 to the assembled group. The only person who even gave the impression of listening was his date. 

Monica tuned her brother out as her gaze traveled around her apartment. People filled every nook and cranny; the beverage table was being refilled for the third time. Monica herself was slightly tipsy, and had lost control of the party hours ago.

Not that she cared. She had been engaged for only a week, and already they had booked a hall, arranged the reception, chosen the flowers, and made the guest list. It was like a dream come true for Monica; she was finally getting her picture-perfect wedding. She grinned dazedly at Pete. 

"What?" he asked, catching her eye.

"Nothing," she said.

"I love you," Pete said.

"I love you too," she replied. "Can you believe that this time next year, I'll be getting ready to kiss my husband at midnight?"

"I believe it, and I love it," Pete whispered.

"Who wants party poppers?" Phoebe asked to the room in general, tossing the small noisemakers into the crowd.

"Hey, has anybody seen Rachel?" Joey asked.

"No, I sent her out with Chandler to get drinks a while ago - they should be back by now," Monica said, her brow furrowing.

"They probably got stuck in traffic," Pete said wisely.

"Damn, I bet they did," Monica said. _All the better,_ she thought. _I don't need him breathing down my neck at midnight._

"30 seconds!" 

"So who you kissing at midnight, Pheebs?" Joey asked.

"Who are _you_ kissing?"

"You?" Joey asked, shrugging.

"I guess so," Phoebe said.

"10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 - HAPPY NEW YEAR!" Party poppers blew and people cheered as Monica and Pete wrapped their arms around each other and kissed.

"Happy New Year," Pete whispered in her ear.

"You too," Monica whispered as their lips locked again.

She had no way to know that across the hall, Rachel and Chandler were _also_ bringing in the new year. 

A/N: Thank you for reading! Don't know when the next chap will be up, hopefully soon. Bec - you rock! I won't say any more here, but Becca rocks at… doing cool stuff with websites! Luv ya babe! For real this time, Happy New Year!!! 

*Yen*


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